


The Five Times a Member of The Rose-Frank Family Knew It Would Be Okay, And the One Time They Lied

by Willowcat88



Category: Dungeons & Dragons (Roleplaying Game)
Genre: 5+1 Things, Ada Can't Cook but Her Soup, Angst, Canon Ace Character, Canon Demiromantic Character, Canon Lesbian Character, Canon Lesbian Relationship, Canon Pansexual Character, F/F, Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, I Wrote This Instead of Sleeping, I'm Bad At Titles, Magic, Overworking, Pre-Parental Panic, The Author Regrets Nothing, Wedding, fluff with an angsty ending, her soup is magical okay, i know it says "major character death" but its, s, ~ambigious~
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-10
Updated: 2019-05-10
Packaged: 2020-02-29 10:36:24
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,170
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18776560
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Willowcat88/pseuds/Willowcat88
Summary: What happens in an alternate universe where the events of BOAW never happened, and also this is a DND realm??This.And my god it is glorious.





	The Five Times a Member of The Rose-Frank Family Knew It Would Be Okay, And the One Time They Lied

**Author's Note:**

  * For [CinderScoria](https://archiveofourown.org/users/CinderScoria/gifts).



> okay okay im so excited so lets hop into this BUT first,, this is for my amazing wonderful friend @CinderScoria because they are an amazing wonderful friend and if it hadn't been for them, Rhea would not have been created sO-  
> Also,, consider it an early finishing-h(I)l present!!!!! <3

**i.**

The first time was on Clara and Ada’s wedding day. The happy couple had been looking forward to this day for months and had been planning it for just as long. And now, the day was _finally_ here, Ada would finally get to point at Clara, beaming, and shout “That’s my WIFE!” whenever she wanted, and she could not be happier.

She could also not be any more nervous.

Which was _very_ bad, considering she tended to set things on fire a lot more when she was tense or nervous, and she did not want to turn up to her own wedding in charred clothes with soot streaked across her face from burning down the building she had been getting ready in.

Ada pushed that train of thought out of her head, and focussed on breathing in and out, trying to make sure that she didn’t end up breathing out smoke.

“I can do this,” she whispered to herself in the mirror, “I can! It’s gonna be fine, its gonna be wonderful, I get to marry the love of my life today, its gonna be _fantastic_ and I cannot _wait,_ why am I so _nervous-”_

“Hey, Fire-Face, you ready to go or are you gonna keep monologuing into the mirror all evening?”

She squawks in shock, spinning around to see Antoine, clad in a smart suit, leaning against the open doorway. “When did _you_ get here?!”

He puts his hand ups, palms open and upwards as if he was calming a wild beast. “Hey, hey, calm down. I didn’t mean to spook you, but we have to go now. You ready?”

She straightens up, holding her chin high and wiping the sweat off of her hands onto the wall - at a later date, she would argue that “It was the wall or my clothes, and I didn’t want to smell bad during the ceremony!” - and linking her arm around Antoine’s to be walked out. “Ready as I’ll ever be,” She smirks up at him, excitement dancing in her gaze like Winterfest lights.

The pair walk out from the edge of the town, following the magic-lit path through the woods, to the point where they can hear mumbling and faint music from up ahead. Antoine lets go of her then, patting her on the back encouragingly and steps backwards, away from her.

Ada takes a deep breath, and walks, as gracefully as she can manage, to the point where the Y shaped path merges. And there she sees her almost-wife, Clara, half of her blue hair woven into intricate and elegant braids, the other half hanging down loosely around her shoulders. She’s beaming down at Ada, eyes glistening with the beginnings of happy tears. She offers her hand silently to Ada, and she takes it, squeezing comfortingly as they let their intertwined hands fall down by their sides as they begin to walk towards the altar.

And in that moment, all of her worries left her, and everything was as perfect as they’d dreamed, if not more so.

**ii.**

The second time was not too long before Rhea was born, when it was still just Clara and Ada in the cosy house by the sea. It’d taken them forever to find and then translate ( “From _Infernal,_ Ada, give me a minute, you _know_ that glyphs are harder- don’t give me that look, would you rather I tried to _say_ it in Infernal? I thought not.” ) the correct spell, and even though the only steps left were collecting the ingredients and waiting for the right time of the month, Clara seemed to be getting increasingly stressed.

Whilst Ada knew that her wife was a perfectionist in every part of her magic, she was still worried about her overworking herself into oblivion, even though she understood why. _Neither_ of them wanted to mess this up- the scroll was clearly marked as one use only, and although other ones of it were known to exist, the whole process was too exhausting to go through again for a while, and they didn’t want to wait too long to hold their daughter in their arms.

So when Ada finds her wife still working in the specially magic-proofed shed outside at 3am, she’s sympathetic, coming over to the wizard sat on the floor. Clara had been so buried in her books, mumbling magical mumbo-jumbo under her breath, and running a hand through her now frizzy icy-blue hair, that she hadn’t noticed Ada slip into the chilly room, shutting the door behind her gently.

“Baby?” Ada calls out softly, not wanting to startle her wife. Clara still jumps, just a little, papers beside her rustling as she turns to face her wife. “It's 3am, beautiful, come to bed, we can work on this once you’ve rested, lovely.”

Clara blinks up at her, opens her mouth to protest, and a yawn escapes instead, her shoulders sagging. “Alright.”

Ada takes her hand and helps her up, and they walk back to the house in a comfortable almost-silence, broken only by their soft footsteps and the _clink_ of their rings knocking together every now and then.

“It’s gonna be okay, you know. The spells gonna go just fine, she's gonna be just fine, beautiful, okay? She’s gonna be _perfect,_ no matter what happens.”

Clara nods, a small smile brightening her tired face. “I can’t _wait_ to meet her.”

**iii.**

The third time, Rhea Rose-Frank is only 5 years old, but Clara and Ada have had to leave her for a little while- an old, dear friend’s town was under siege from a group of rock golems, and they needed help desperately to destroy them, and whilst other adventurers promised to be on the way, Clara and Ada were by _far_ the closest. So, with heavy hearts, they’d left their young daughter in the care of Antoine and Genie - after they left, they realised that maybe leaving Rhea with the gay disaster and the distinguished ace might’ve been a recipe for disaster, but they were written too regularly by Genie (Antoine’s handwriting was _horrific_ ), who would always promise that Rhea was doing wonderfully, so their motherly worries were quenched for the time being.

The fight with the rock golems had been long and hard, and, whilst she knew her wife did not care to admit it, there had been times when Clara had believed that both of them - _especially_ Ada, the reckless little _darling,_ were finished for good. But, after many weeks, hell, the total time was closer to two or three months than the one they’d estimated, they’d won, and were finally able to return home.

Ada had spent almost all of the long cart ride home asleep, but Clara hadn’t been able to doze off. She’d spent the time scribbling in her spellbook, staying incredibly still so as not to disturb her wife, who’d managed to fall asleep leaning on her shoulder, snoring peacefully.

When the seaside cottage had finally come into view, albeit in the distance, she had gently woken her wife. Whilst Ada was rubbing the sleep from her eyes and yawning sleepily, Clara had squinted at the front porch. She was - only vaguely at this distance - able to make out two, no, _three_ figures waiting for them. The two bigger ones were waving, and the littlest one, held by the left figure, was also waving a stubby arm.

Clara’s heart melted and soared at the same time at the sight of her daughter. After paying the driver, the couple had hopped out of the cart and sprinted the last hundred or so metres, thundering up to the porch with gleeful laughter.

As soon as she reached it, Clara picked up her young daughter and swung her around in the air, laughing, ecstatic that their family was whole once more.

Rhea beamed up at her mums, showcasing the gap in her mouth where one of her front teeth used to be. “Moma! You’re home!! Look, look, I lost a tooth, see? The Tooth Fairy gave me a whole silver piece for it!!” She giggles, jumping up and down on the spot.

Clara laughs, “Did she now?” and presses a kiss to the girl’s forehead.

“Can I see, please, Dragon?” Ada says, and their daughter turns toward her, beaming, showing off the gap again. “Oh _wow!_ You _have,_ oh, you’re so grown up!!” She cheers, applauding their daughter.

And Clara knows, seeing her wife and daughter interact so casually, that everything is okay once more with their family, and it warms her heart.

**iv.**

The fourth time is a decade and a little later, when Rhea is 17 years old. She had decided at a young age that she wanted to follow in Clara’s footsteps and become a wizard - “I wanna be just like moma!” she’d said at the time.

But a few years into her studies, she was starting to have doubts. Even though they mostly studied in the magic-proof shed that was actually quite spacious, every hour spent in there felt like the walls were closing in. No matter how hard she tried, she just _couldn’t_ remember everything she needed to - somatic verbal and material components, spell effects and durations, types of spell, all of it, just went straight over her head, and it made her feel sick.

She wondered if her moma could tell. Either way, it would be bad. As much as Rhea hated her studies, she loved her moma and wanted desperately to not let her down. She didn’t want to be seen as the failure she felt she was.

 _Because,_ her brain reasoned, _if she couldn’t do magic, what sort of daughter would that make her? Born to two of the most respected mages of their time, and unable to cast spells? What a waste._

They’d already established that it was, unfortunately, physically impossible for her to become a Sorceress like Ada- she just wasn’t born with The Spark, even though she had been born out of magic - so if she couldn’t become a wizard like Clara, well, would they even want her anymore?

Rationally, of course, she knew they would - her parents had never shown anything but love and support to her. And yet, the nagging doubt wouldn’t leave her be. Gods, she _hated_ this feeling.

The next morning, after dragging herself out of the bed and into her lessons, the words to tell her moma what she wanted sat heavy on her tongue, quelling her courage and drying out her throat. She swallowed thickly, tapping her quill against the desk nervously.

After a few minutes, Clara hesitates in what she’s writing in the air, and sighs, vanishing her pen and the notes with a wave of her hand. She turns to face a confused Rhea.

“What’s wrong, sweetheart? You seem unhappy, baby, what’s on your mind?” she asks gently, taking her daughter’s hand in hers and rubbing over the back of it with her thumb soothingly.

Rhea avoids her gaze, chewing the inside of her cheek nervously, and mumbles: “I don’t..” and she pauses, trying to find the words to go on. Her moma waits patiently, smiling gently and still rubbing the back of Rhea’s hand soothingly.

“I don’t wanna be a wizard anymore,” she admits, slightly louder than before, managing to hold her moma’s gaze for a little bit, before dropping her eyes to the floor, face flushing as she whispers an ashamed apology, eyes prickling with the beginnings of tears.

“Oh, _baby.”_ And suddenly Clara is dashing around the table and wrapping her up into a big, comforting, motherly hug.

Rhea lets out a choked sob, still mumbling apologies.

“Shh, shh, sweetheart, you don’t need to be sorry,” Clara pulls back, still holding her daughter’s hands, and looking in her the eyes, the soft smile still on her lips. “You have done _nothing_ wrong, okay? You gotta follow your own path in life, babe, no-one’s expecting you to be a carbon copy of me _or_ your ma, you’re your own person, you hear me, darling?”

Rhea takes a deep, shuddering breath, nodding.

“Okay?”

“Okay.”

Her moma hummed gently; “Wanna go inside? Ma’s making soup; I can smell it from here.”

 

**v.**

The fifth time is no more than two years later. Rhea has finally decided that she wants to be a pirate- “But with _less_ murder and _more_ helping people out!” - and is leaving home to travel the world on the ship she and her parents had spent the past year building, BDE (or Beedie, affectionately **.**

Whilst she was quite nervous about leaving home for the first time, it felt like electricity was fizzing through her veins. Granted, in the _saltwater_ ocean, that would definitely be a safety hazard, but still. She was ecstatic, and spent most of the walk down to the beach running ahead and then doubling back, just to tire herself out a little- not too much, just enough to put out the electrical fire in her heart.

After all, whilst Beedie wasn't a particularly _large_ craft, she would still require quite a bit of handling, and Rhea was only one person. Resolving to pick up crew members on the way, she pushed the worry out of her mind - today was a day for new beginnings, not old worries.

Eventually, all three members of the Rose-Frank family made it to the docks, standing in front of BDE, and a bittersweet silence falls upon them.

“So… I guess this is goodbye? For now, of course, I’m coming back to visit!” she hurriedly adds, because she’s not mean and she _loves_ her mums, she really does.

Ada wipes the beginnings of a tear from her eye and laughs, “You better, Dragon! And make sure to write us, please?”, as she pulls Rhea - who is very much taller than her - into a hug, holding her tightly just to remember how it feels whilst she’s gone.

“Of _course_ I will, ma!”

When she eventually lets Rhea go, they’re both crying - “ _only a little!” -_ and Ada only lets go so that Clara can have a turn.

Rhea snuggles into her moma instinctively, even though she claims to be far too old for this (which doesn’t ever stop either of her mothers insisting that she’ll _always_ be their little girl), taking comfort in Clara’s aroma- distinctly magical, how she imagines the crackling sound of boots on frosty grass in the springtime would smell. Ada’s is more like brimstone and log fires, like a camping night spent holding hands under the stars.

“You look after yourself okay, darling? It’s a big world out there,” Clara smiles sadly at her daughter, holding her hands after releasing her from the hug.

“I will, moma, promise!” Rhea swears to her earnestly.

She takes a deep breath, and kisses both of her parents on the cheek, as a last goodbye; “I _have_ to go now, or I’ll never leave. I love you both! Take care of each other!” she calls, as she climbs aboard BDE and hoists the anchor, setting sail as both of her parents wave goodbye, arms wrapped around each other for comfort.

“Do you think she’ll be okay?” Ada asks hesitantly, as their daughter starts to sail into the distance.

Clara looked at her wife and lovingly rolled her eyes, chuckling slightly.

“Babe, she’s the daughter of an ice wizard and a fire sorceress- the ocean runs in her _veins.”_

**+i.**

At this point, Rhea has been gone for four, nearly five, years, excluding her (and sometimes her crew as well) dropping in to visit the cosy house on the coast for Winterfest and birthdays, and the occasional odd visit when she just happened to be in the area and was missing Ada’s soup-making skills.

Except, this year, something wasn’t quite right. It was April- the time that Rhea normally came around to celebrate her and Ada’s birthday, but she hadn’t arrived. What was even _more_ worrying though, was the fact that they had heard nothing from her since mid-February, the last time she’d written to them.

It was _highly_ disconcerting- Rhea tended to write them every two or so weeks, so even if one letter had been lost in transportation, the chances were slimmer than the chances that Rhea would forget to or deliberately not write to her mums.

So, both Clara and Ada were notably concerned. Well, more _horribly frightened_ than concerned, but same difference, right?

Not really.

Every day, Clara would hurry to meet her familiar, Oswald, at his perch at dawn to see if he'd brought any mail from the post office. And day after day after soul-crushing _day,_ he came back empty-clawed. And it broke her heart, once when there was nothing for her, and twice when she had to return to her sleep-deprived wife (the stress was making Ada’s internal temperatures skyrocket and she simply _couldn’t_ sleep, only snatching a few hours whenever she could manage to calm down enough - Clara’s icy cool radiating from across the other side of the bed always helped, but it was rarely enough these days.)

The house seemed emptier with each passing day, as if the mark Rhea had made upon this place was fading with each day that they heard nothing from her. It put weights on Clara’s shoulders and her tongue, and she didn’t speak nearly as much as she used to.

But no matter how desperate they got, they never, _ever,_ gave up on their daughter. Rhea was _strong,_ she was a _fighter,_ and they could _not_ believe that she was gone.

Rhea, dead? _Impossible._ Completely and _utterly_ impossible. Ada and Clara could not and _would_ not accept that possibility. Nope. _Never._

Rhea was alive and well and coming home soon and- _oh, who were they kidding._

One cold, foggy morning, with the smell of brine floating over the garden from the ocean, the two were sat outside on the porch, trying to find comfort in the silence and each other.

For what feels like hours on end, they sit and listen to the ocean, breath misting and adding to the blanket of fog hanging on the air.

 _It's_ far _too cold for April,_ Clara sighs internally - although she herself, _thrives_ on the cold, this damp and dreary weather doesn't do wonders for her or Ada, who'd been looking forward to the warmer months.

However, it almost seemed like the warmth of spring had disappeared with Rhea. _Funny that,_ Clara's mind scoffed. And by “funny”, she meant not at all.

Suddenly, Ada speaks up, shattering the fragile silence.

“Do... Do you think she's gonna be okay?” She asks, the timidity in her voice incredibly unusual.

 _No._ “Yeah. She has to be, right? She'll come home, I know it.” Clara's tongue feels clumsy as she forms the lie, hoping to provide her stricken wife with any form of comfort.

  
_She’ll_ _com_ _e_   _home_ , she adds to herself, silently, trying to rationalize lying to her wife, _All that's left to see, is if she'll be in a coffin or not._

**Author's Note:**

> "bde" stands for "big dick energy" okay i don't make the rules.  
> uhhhh yeAH at 3189 words this is the longest oneshot i've ever written and i really hope you all enjoy it, okay i gotta go now or i'll be late for school-  
> <3<3<3


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